


like a slow fire burn

by signsoflife



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signsoflife/pseuds/signsoflife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith feels like shit on so many levels that this, getting dressed after their first bag skate in a while, seems extremely difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a slow fire burn

Keith's fucking wiped, his breathing is all raspy and tight and his legs are rubbery, wobbling a little as he makes his way to his stall. He's slow to change out of his gear, piece by slow as fuck piece, and he's even slower to shower. The water doesn't feel as great as he wants it to despite the warmth, but he's not ready to face whatever's coming.

There's a slow pulse starting in the back of his head, and Keith finally shuts the water off, wraps a towel around his hips. He's got to put up or shut up at some point.

Doaner's still sitting in his stall when Keith gets back to the dressing room and really, he expected nothing less. He doesn't say anything, busy talking to Whitney about something. Keith doesn't move any faster getting dressed, not even when Whits leaves and it's just him and Doaner.

He pulls on a pair of boxers, drags his towel through his hair. Keith feels like shit on so many levels that this, getting dressed after their first bag skate in a while, seems extremely difficult.

Neither of them says anything, Doaner just follows him out to his car and Keith nods when their eyes meet for just a moment. He's ready.

He doesn't really check his rearview, but he knows Doaner's back there. He sees him out of the corner of his eye at each turn and it's enough to keep Keith's breathing a little tight. He's not sure exactly what's going to happen, but they're going to fix this.

Doaner's a minute behind him when Keith finally pulls up to his place, and Keith stays outside to wait, fidgeting just slightly.

He gets them inside with little fuss, though the key manages to fit weirdly the first two times Keith tries, and then Doaner has him pressed against the back of the door and Keith's breathing only gets that much more tight. He's shaking too, tiny vibrations that he could probably blame on practice. He doesn't.

"Hey, man," Doaner says and something eases inside Keith. He's still stretched tight, but each breath comes a little easier. Doaner's got a hand at the fly of Keith's jeans and he says, "Breathe, Yands. Come on."

Keith focuses on each breath, focuses on Doaner's hands, barely touching any skin at all, and finally just breathes.

"That's it," Doaner says, and there's the hint of a smile in his voice. He noses at the side of Keith's neck, presses his mouth there for a second before tugging open Keith's jeans and getting a hand down his boxers. It's not what Keith expected, not like this, and the sound coming out of his mouth is hard to stop. Halfway between a gasp and a moan, Keith isn't even sure if he can get hard right now.

But then Doaner's hand is curling around him, warm and dry, and Keith's hips are moving all on their own, pushing up into the circle of Doaner's fist. Doaner hums, says, "Yeah, that's it."

He doesn't even move his fist for the first minute or two, just lets Keith fuck himself hard, but then his hand is loosening and then gone altogether.

"Wait, wait," Keith says, hands tugging at Doaner's hips, his biceps, whatever he can get an easy grip on. He forces his eyes open and Doaner's got his eyes narrowed, looking at Keith like he knows exactly what's going on in his head.

The urge to twist away is burning up inside him, but Keith just lets his eyes fall shut. He's not sure what he's supposed to be doing, not sure what to fight for right now.

Doaner grunts at him, says, "Fuck, Yands," and for the first time in a week he sounds mad. He presses closer and this time his mouth on Keith's neck isn't all chaste and easy. It's the slight sting of teeth and Keith can feel the bruise coming. His hips twist, searching for friction that isn't there.

Doaner bites one last time, hard, and then pulls away completely. Keith stutters out a weak, "What?" before Doaner says, "Come on," and pulls him back toward the bedrooms.

Keith goes, can't not, and then Doaner is pushing him down into the mattress, getting rid of shoes and socks and jeans like he's on a mission. Once Keith's naked, all but his shirt pushed up high on his stomach, Doaner climbs up too, straddling Keith's thighs.

It's all slow movement for a little while then, Doaner's hands on Keith's skin, everywhere but his dick. Keith groans and he's having trouble with words, can't find the right ones to tell Doaner to do it, whatever he's going to do. But he twists up into the press of Doaner's hands on his thighs and thinks about getting his own hand on his dick.

Keith's aware enough to realize that it's probably what Doaner's waiting for, but it still takes him another minute of slow, easy touches that go nowhere for him to actually do it.

Fist relaxed, just barely enough friction, Keith jacks himself a few times. He relaxes back into the mattress, focusing on the feel of his own skin on skin and the slight chafe of Doaner's jeans on his thighs.

He's not super close, but he could get there like this.

Doaner gives him another moment and then he's knocking Keith's hand away, replacing it with his mouth. One swift move and Keith can feel the back of Doaner's throat. His body goes from zero to tense in about two seconds, and his hands tighten in Doaner's hair. It's too much.

"Fuck, Doaner," Keith says, voice rough. "Shane."

Doaner just hums up at him and Keith's hips snap forward. He's suddenly there, all that slow buildup leading to this, and he taps at Doaner's shoulder, tugs at his hair. 

"Shane, Shane, I'm gonna," he says, and Doaner's fist tightens over the base of his dick. Keith grunts, rough and stupid, and feels his orgasm ebb a little.

"No," Doaner says, and then he's sucking at the head of Keith's dick, fist still tight around the base. He teases at the skin underneath, gives the underside one long, slow lick, and then the full heat of his mouth is back and Keith's trying to keep his hips still, trying to keep his mouth shut.

Doaner's mouth meets his fist and it's too much, he's so close again, already.

"Doaner," he says, maybe, and Doaner stops sucking immediately. He pulls off, all but his fist, and Keith doesn't whine at the loss. Doaner's mouth wanders up over Keith's hips, up to his belly and over his abs. It's not quite enough for Keith to forget how close he is, but it's getting there.

Doaner pushes his shirt up and stays for a moment at Keith's nipples, sucking at one for a minute before moving to the other. Keith's mouth is opening over the stupidest sounds, but he can't do anything to stop them. Doaner's still got his fist wrapped tight around his dick and Keith's shaking just a little.

"Okay?" Doaner asks and Keith nods at him, says something that's probably just a garbled mess. Doaner's eyes narrow for a second and then he's moving back down. He takes all of Keith's dick, everything he can manage, and this time when Keith tugs at his hair, too gone to do anything else, Doaner just looks up at him and hums, a clear go ahead.

It's another moment after that that Keith does actually come, hips arched off the bed and mouth hanging open.

Doaner doesn't pull off until Keith's past done, verging over into oversensitive and then he grunts and Doaner moves. He presses a soft bite into the meat of Keith's thigh and then flops down next to him, eyes closed, breathing easy.

Keith makes a weak grab at Doaner's hip and Doaner just cracks an eye at him, a warning in every line of his body. Keith sighs and settles back, squirming a little to find a pillow. He says, "You're a dick," and Doaner just mumbles something back at him.

After a minute, he says, clear, "Naptime, Yands," and Keith sleeps.


End file.
